


Ballerina

by honeymilk2005



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Children, Dancing, Dancing and Singing, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, First Dance, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 09:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30120390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymilk2005/pseuds/honeymilk2005
Summary: Sucre and Hugo dancing when the world is still soft and new and good :) Inspired cause a buddy of mine suggested it! thank you, rowan!!
Kudos: 5





	Ballerina

_in all reason, Sucre really should not have been allowed into the castle-_ Castle? the throne room was a better term, she thinks, but then again, Sucre never really cared for what she was or wasn't allowed to do at any given moment. Rules mean nothing, least not to her. She guesses Zacharie might have rubbed off on her too much, or maybe she did on him, but either way, it rarely mattered much. 

This is one of those times when Sucre should have listened to the rules, especially given it concerned the Queen, and Vader was a frightening woman even unintentionally, her kind nature didn't change her monotone pallet and featureless face- well, featureless apart from the mouth. the mouth Sucre had seen turn sharp-toothed and large fanged when Eloha found rage a better substitute in her recipe than sugar. _Sugar_...well. It wasn't much wonder why the Queen was fond of Sucre, but even then, Sucre's sudden nature despite the fondness would not exempt her from the possibility of wrath. though, she figured this an unlikely event, in truth. Vader would never hand out rage like harsh cinnamon in return for granting her son joy, however brief they may be. she liked to say Sucre was his favorite, apart from rage, maybe. _Maybe she was right. Maybe flattery was simply kinder when laced in silk._

But that would come when it came, for right now, Sucre was focused on dancing with a very small prince who giggled wildly, sparking laughter from both. She liked the prince, him, and his many eyes. She felt Hugo understood more than he could ever tell Sucre of, be it of vocal inability, or unwillingness she wasn't sure but for now she was twirling around in the throne room with a red-silk-clad boy, her wide dainty hands holding him aloft under the arms. there was no music, but there didn't have to be. Sucre's humming and wordless singing filled the rhythm for them like the pogs in a music box, aimless and loud and sweet to the ears.

something sparked from Hugo when they spun and swayed, you might call it magic, but it was something else entirely to Sucre. she supposes the possibilities are endless when you're the God of such a loosely logic-bound world. the sparks jolt through the air from Hugo, as if manifestations of laughter, in colors that should not exist. _they shimmer like fireworks and curl out drawings and sweet phrases as they dance, they roll with Sucre's voice._

As they do, the sparks fill the air with a symphony of pops and pings and crackles. Sucre finds she enjoys this tune better than any normal music. it reminds her of wind chimes in a hurricane, and Hugo seems talented with his own small orchestra spawned from nothing but happy lively eyes and a child's laughter that rang throughout the world like bells. _She liked the sound of bells._

As they went on, the music became more complex and more refined, popping turned to snare drums, pings turned to bells, crackles into stringed instruments that strummed with a rhythm that filled the world with color. The sky changed from a dainty refined blue-grey to a swirl of colors that ran throughout the Zones. Sucre was certain every soul in this world could hear this music, the sound similar to a circus. 

Things are happy now. Music and a light show in the sky founded on nothing but joy and movement and an impulse decision from a dancer with no apathy that could be directed towards such innocence with reason. 

Things are happy now. Hugo does not wheeze and sputter and cough in his laughter, and the world is clean and soft. the people are happy, the guardians are kind, the brothers are still brothers just the same as the mother remains a mother.

_Things are happy now._   
_They won't be forever, Hugo can see it with too many eyes the way this story will end, and it haunts him at night when Vader never falls too deeply asleep to hear him wailing._   
_They won't be, but for now, they are._   
_And maybe, after everything. **They will be again.**_


End file.
